


Not the Only One (Markiplier/Reader)

by In_Wolfs_Clothing



Category: markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Oneshot, Reader Insert, Youtuber - Freeform, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21662458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Wolfs_Clothing/pseuds/In_Wolfs_Clothing
Summary: Markiplier/Reader one-shot. "When you met him, it felt like the world had stopped spinning."
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Reader, Mark Fischbach/You, Markiplier/Reader, Markiplier/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Not the Only One (Markiplier/Reader)

When you met him, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Just for a moment, everything in the universe paused to watch as the planets and stars aligned, forming a halo above his head. You thought you had never seen an angel before that - you never believed in them. That was foolish.

Devils always disguise themselves as things better than they are. Maybe because it makes them easier to look at. You suppose some fall so deep into their façade, they forget their origin entirely. But devils with masks are still devils.

Life itself opened up to you, and you witnessed and experienced many new things while holding his hand. You explore new places, meet new faces, and get into some trouble that's sure to be a funny story later.

But, when life reveals itself, it doesn't just unlock doors to good things. It also opens windows - windows that let the breeze in. A chill air that floats through the gap leaves goosebumps on the back of your neck, even when you feel warm. You spend nights in bed beside him, the heat of his body radiating throughout the room. But the window has been opened, and you are cold.

People with responsibilities tend to mask their hurt for the benefit of the people around them. It always seems so much easier to pretend that you’re okay, rather than explaining the long story of how you came to be so sad. Besides, you had already imagined all the responses you’d get.

_“And you’re still with him? How dumb can you be?”_

Love is so complicated. People tell themselves that they will only accept a certain kind, and that they will leave without complications - without a second thought. You don’t _really_ believe true love is like that. When you love someone, it’s like a wall is built around the two of you. Every day, the wall gets higher. But, sometimes, your partner stumbles upon a key and finds a secret door. One day, you catch them slipping out of the door you didn’t even know existed. You trusted it to not exist.

Now, you are stuck. You have no key, and you have built this wall around yourself. Only, the space seems a little emptier now. When people ask, “You’re still with him?” you have to tell them, “I can’t leave.” You don’t know how.

It is unfair to love someone so unconditionally and for them to disappoint you. You think so highly of a person, then suddenly their image comes crashing down. If you think you truly know someone, think again. You’ll never really see your partner until they are sitting across the room, begging you not to leave. Even then, how do you know that it’s not another disguise?

“(Y/N),” a whisper comes from behind. The warmth breath makes you recognize the cold sweat running down your spine.

If you know anything about betrayal, you will know it comes with an unmistakable dread. It feels like the world you so perfectly drew together was a simulation. Do you know how it feels to realize that everything you believed was just a lie?

You are shaking - no, shuddering, like a demon is trying to crawl its way through your every limb. It must have a grasp on your heart because your chest feels tight. You can’t catch your breath. You can’t speak.

A hand rests on your shoulder, testing the waters. You don’t reel from it, accepting the touch. Soon, arms are wrapped around your midsection and you are pulled against a broad chest. You begin to wiggle uncomfortably.

“(Y/N),” he chides gently.

“Mark, I’m sweaty! I’m gross!” you cry, desperately trying to release yourself from his grasp.

“(Y/N),” he breathes, “calm down. You are okay.”

A silent sob causes your whole body to fall into itself, but he still holds you tight. You wish that you could scream, but you can’t find your voice. A cold nose brushes the back of your scalp, for a moment it was a breath of fresh air. But no matter which arms are holding you, all you can imagine is that they are _his_. A squeal releases from your lungs, it’s all you could manage.

You feel movement and slowly legs appear from behind you, slowly encompassing your body and pulling you even closer. You are shifted a bit until you are fully in his lap, head resting in the crook of his neck. All you can think about is how your tears are getting his shirt wet.

“I’m here.” His voice is like a low tide caressing a cliff of rocks. Strong, unfaltering, but still gentle. “How can I help?”

Your hands lay limply against your thighs and you can’t help but stare at them. There is nothing else to look at in a dark room.

“He made a big mistake, (Y/N).”

“I know,” you croaked. Suddenly, your hands begin to shake before your whole body follows. Mark’s arms squeeze you as a reassurance. “But... I-I can’t see…” You sob and the only thing that keeps you straight is his hold. “I can’t see myself without him.” Everything feels so heavy. “How am I supposed to live without him?” 

A wave of tears comes, and this time you cry out loud. He hushes you softly, rocking you side to side. “You are strong,” Mark says, lips brushing against your forehead. “And I am proud of you.”

“Why?” you weep.

“Because you are handling this very well.” You shake your head, not believing it. There is no good way to handle this pain. “You haven’t done anything crazy, and you left him.”

“But I’ll go back,” you said sorrowfully. One of your hands wipes the bit of snot running from your nose before falling limp again. You have no room to think about how gross that was.

You are shifted in his lap, enough to look at his face directly. You can’t find the courage or energy to look him in the eye. “Please don’t.” He said it almost like a plea.

“I have nowhere else to go. I have nothing else.”

Mark’s hand brushes the stray hairs from your face before resting on your jaw. “You have so many people that love you, that would also be willing to take you in.”

Your face scrunches in disgust and you grab his wrist, tugging his hand from your face. “Do you know how embarrassing it is? How am I supposed to tell anyone what he did to me? They will all think I’m stupid.” Your eyes fill with tears once more and you can feel your nose turning warm.

“You aren’t stupid, (Y/N). You were hurt and that is not your fault.”

“It _is_ my fault.” You let go of his wrist so that you can cover your face with your hands. “I must’ve not been good enough.” Your nails began to scratch against your scalp. “Maybe it was just because I was on my period, or I just told him no, or I-”

You were grasped firmly by the shoulders. “Stop.”

You began weeping again, leaning further into your hands. “It had to be me, right? I’m just not pretty enough. I’m not his type.”

“(Y/N). Stop,” he said tightly. You continued to cry. “You were with him for several years, there’s no excuse for what he did.” He began to lift you, making sure you sat straight up. “You didn’t do anything.”

“No, no, no,” you whispered beneath your breath. “It has to be my fault. Why else would he do it?”

Mark slowly pulled you against his chest again, one hand fixing itself on your lower back and rubbing circles against the sweater he had given you. “You won’t get an answer that you like, (Y/N).” He rested his chin atop your head. You could hear his heart beating.

“It’s so stupid,” you muttered, tears still making trails down your cheeks. His palm moved to rest on your bicep.

“You can stay here,” he offered.

“My stuff,” you whimpered.

His thumb rubbed your arm. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of it.”

“Mark, he doesn’t know…” Exhaustion coated you, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. “He doesn’t know that I’m leaving him.” He hushed you, free hand holding your head against his chest.

When you met _him_ , it felt like the world had stopped spinning. But in Mark’s arm, perhaps it would start again.


End file.
